The Application of Logic to an Illogical Situation
by MidniteMarauder
Summary: When faced with the discovery of his Secret by his friends, Remus learns the meaning of acceptance and friendship, while Sirius muses about logic, stalking, voyeurism, and the reliability of certain books found in the library of a fanatical, pureblood fam


**The Application of Logic (to an Illogical Situation)**

**Rating:** PG (because 12 year old Sirius insists on being a bit of a potty-mouth)

**Summary:** When faced with the discovery of his Secret by his friends, Remus learns the meaning of acceptance and friendship, while Sirius muses about logic, stalking, voyeurism, and the reliability of certain books found in the library of a fanatical, pureblood family.

HUGS to my friend Kyrie for the beta!

* * *

Huddled beneath the blanket, Remus shivered, his brain refusing to cease its relentless inner dialogue, insisting on tormenting him even further by flashing images across his closed eyelids; images of his three best friends wearing expressions of horror, disgust and loathing. He shook his head trying to blink away the heartrending sight. 

_They know. They know, and they don't care. Well, they _say _they don't care. I_ want _to believe them, Merlin, how I want to..._

The visions faded, only to be replaced with actual memories. Peter first, staring wide-eyed, but chin firm and gaze unwavering. Nervous though he may have been, he bit it back for the sake of friendship. Next it was James, who had clapped him on the back, gently, since he knew Remus was likely still sore and bruised after the recent transformation. He'd looked at him solemnly but thankfully without pity. There was a fire in his eyes as well, a challenge, almost daring Remus to refute him. James was like that – brash and mischievous to be sure, carefree, as if nothing ever bothered him, yet when challenged, he would be fierce and unrelenting.

Sirius...

Sirius' grey eyes had bore into him, the color of tempered steel. He wore his emotions closer to the surface than James did, and every emotion he felt showed in those stormy eyes. Unless, he amended, he made a conscious effort to put on his mask of impassive indifference; the one he almost exclusively displayed for his family members and Hogwarts professors when being accused or reprimanded. No mask today as a myriad of feelings had flitted across his unblinking gaze, though in his state at the time, Remus was in no condition to decipher them, as was his usual practice. The corner of Sirius' mouth had quirked up in a lopsided grin, and he shook his head, dark hair swaying slightly.

"Well, bugger me. Doesn't this just shoot down every so-called fact about dark creatures I've ever read. Should burn those ruddy books, I'd think."

Peter had giggled, James smirked, and Remus had stood there dumbstruck, staring back at Sirius. The eerie echo of James' voice in his head,_'we know, Remus, we know what you are'_, had drowned out everything else that followed during the last few minutes. It took him a moment to register what Sirius had said. The ensuing silence in the dormitory room had been even more deafening. He'd belatedly realized they were waiting for him to either acknowledge or deny their allegations, or at the very least, say _something_.

"I... well..." He'd cleared his throat in the hopes that words, any words, might come, but all he managed was a slight shrug before he'd closed his traitorous mouth.

Sirius had put his arm over his shoulders then, steering him towards his bed. _He's touching me. He knows what I am and he's still..._

"You look knackered. Get some rest and we'll nick something from the kitchens for you after class," Sirius told him, pulling back his coverlet and ushering him into the bed. "Oi, you might want to take your shoes off first. Remus? Remus? Never mind. Here." Sirius had pushed him gently down on the bed and pulled his shoes off for him. "We'll talk later, eh?"

Remus vaguely remembered nodding, still dazed, as he lay on his side, closed his eyes, and drew his knees up to his chest, pulling the blanket over his head. Where he continued to lie, an hour and half later, not daring to move, unable to sleep, still reeling from the shock and the unexpected kindness. The never-even-dared-to-hope-for-much-less-dream-about acceptance. _We know, Remus. We know_, James' voice still echoed, _and we don't care-care-care..._

A sob hitched in his throat, almost painful in its intensity. He clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, turning his face into his pillow. His small frame shook and he bit his lip. Unable to stifle a shuddering gasp that rose, he thrust his hand into his mouth, biting on his fingers.

Intent in his attempt to suppress his emotional outburst, he didn't hear the dormitory door open and close with a soft click. Didn't hear the footsteps padding over to his bedside, or notice the bed curtains being drawn open a moment later, just enough for a grey eye to peek through.

"Remus," came a faint whisper. "Are you asleep? I brought you – Remus! What – What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Sirius yanked open the curtains and practically stumbled onto the bed beside him, eyes scanning for signs of blood or injury, hands tugging the blanket down to waist level. "Let me see," he urged, stretching out his hand in an attempt to feel for the festering wound or broken bone that his eyes apparently refused to see.

All attempts to choke back the flood of tears failed the moment Sirius reached out to touch him. Unsure of what to do and feeling quite helpless, as he had no real experience with giving or receiving comfort, Sirius did the first thing that came to his panicking mind. He leant down and gathered the sobbing boy into his arms, a bit stiffly at first, and just held him against his chest. Remus tensed and tried desperately to pull away, but Sirius only held him tighter, rocking him gently, and making shushing noises into his hair.

"Shhh, it's okay, it's going to be all right, shhh, Remus," Sirius whispered, relieved when he felt the other boy slowly relaxing in his arms. His hand reached up, almost of its own volition, to gently brush Remus' hair back from his tear-stained face.

Long minutes passed while the two boys clung to each other, and Remus' sobs finally subsided with a gentle hiccup.

"I – I'm sorry," he sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "I – err, have you got a handkerchief or something?"

Sirius chuckled softly and released him from his grasp. "Back in a sec." He returned a minute later with a damp flannel and handed it over, unsure what he should do now, and brushing ineffectually at the large wet spot on the front of his robes. He decided to try for meaningless conversation just to break the awkward silence, but for the first time in his life, had no notion of what to say. Spotting the basket he had brought from the kitchens, he picked it up and placed it gingerly on the bed.

"Umm, so, I brought you something to eat. Wasn't sure what you felt like eating, or if you were even hungry, but you know how the house elves are. Took enough to convince them that I couldn't carry the lot they threw at me, and when I told them it was for you because you were ill, of course they put it all in a basket, because you know how much they fawn over you and how polite you are whenever we go down there," Sirius rambled, offering Remus a shy smile that was so out of character from his usual brashness. "I think there's some soup and some toast, and I specifically told them to make sure they gave me something chocolate, 'cause I know you've got a thing for chocolate and all. I thought it might help. Make you feel better."

"That's… umm thanks. You didn't have to. I'm sorry I…" he trailed off, embarrassed.

"No worries. Here," Sirius said, plopping himself down to sit cross-legged near the foot of the bed. "Go on. You really should eat something. You missed lunch."

Remus kept his gaze lowered as he extracted a piece of toast from the overflowing basket and began to nibble on it. He knew his face was still red with shame from his outburst, and for a moment he was more afraid of what Sirius would think of seeing him cry than what he thought about him being a werewolf. That thought brought him up short and he risked a peek at the other boy through his fringe. Sirius was fidgeting, playing aimlessly with a loose thread on the blanket. He turned his head and as their eyes met, they both started.

"I..."

"I..."

Sirius' mouth quirked up in that lopsided grin of his, and he snorted loudly through his nose. Remus' eyes widened in shock at the unexpected outburst, and his jaw dropped. Seeing Remus Lupin's face so unguarded, Sirius gaped. Their eyes locked and suddenly they were both laughing. It wasn't as if it were outrageously funny, not really, but there they were, belly-deep, high-pitched laughter bubbling up from the both of them, to the point where Sirius was slapping his hands on the mattress and Remus nearly choked on his toast. When they thought they could breathe normally again, they glanced up at each other, Sirius snorted again, and another fit of giggles ensued.

"Can't. Breathe." Sirius choked out. "Stop. Hurts."

"Oh!" Remus gasped. "Don't. Look. At. Me."

"M'not. You're. You. Me." Sirius wheezed incoherently in reply.

It wasn't until the basket of food threatened to overturn that they were able to make a show of composing themselves, although an occasional hiccup made its way past their lips.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you laugh so hard," Sirius observed, holding his stomach, willing his body to breathe normally and not convulse into another fit.

"Yeah, well, living with you and your antics, it was bound to happen sooner or later," Remus replied, risking another bite of his toast. Finishing the last bit and licking his fingers, he looked up at Sirius again, this time with no mirth in his expression. "You really don't care? I mean, you're not just saying that to lull me into a false sense of security, are you?"

"False what? What are you blathering on about?" Sirius waved his hand in a throwing away gesture. "You've lived in the same room with me for over a year. You know I don't say things I don't mean." He paused, amending, "Well, not between the four of us, at least."

"I know. It's just… I never thought…" Remus voice had dwindled to a whisper, and Sirius had to strain to hear him. He watched, fascinated, as a look of wonder stole over his friend's face, amber eyes wide. "I'd never really had friends before. I'd read books of course – "

Sirius quirked an eyebrow and snorted at that.

"– and I'd always try to imagine what it would be like…" he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

Grasping what his friend had confessed, Sirius started. "Never had… Remus, how old were you when, you know, when you were bitten?

Remus hesitated, wringing his hands. "Five," he whispered. He stilled his hands but they remained clasped together to prevent him from fidgeting any further.

"Five? Bloody hell! I can't… Damn." Sirius was stunned. _Five bloody years old. Christ on a stick! Five!_ When the silence started to become awkward, he decided to plunge on. _In for a sickle, in for a galleon, after all._ "Err, Re? What's it really like? To actually be a werewolf, I mean. If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"No, I don't mind you asking. Not really. It's just…" He cleared his throat and steeled himself to continue. "No one has ever actually asked me before. I mean, the mornings after I… transform… my parents ask me how I feel, ask me if I'm tired, ask me the same trivial questions time and again, but no one ever wants to really talk _about _it. Not to me, anyway. I've overheard them talking to each other, of course. And they still take me to healers and shamans and gypsies – anyone they can find, no matter how much it costs, searching for a cure. Sometime I think they're more desperate than I am. That's why…" he trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his now wrinkled, second-hand robes. "They talk over me, around me, but never _to_ me."

"I wouldn't think you'd actually _want _to talk about it. I don't even know what I'm supposed to be asking. Or not asking. S'not like I've any experience. I mean, I read stuff at home. That's why we started to suspect… Anyway," he continued, "my parents' library is _full _of dark arts stuff, and one of my tutors had insisted I learn about dark creatures..." He trailed off again. "But then again, they've got books that go on and on about pureblood wizards being superior to half-bloods and mud – err, muggleborns. Sorry about that. The books actually use that word, too. _Mudblood_," he spat, as if the word left a vile taste in his mouth. He hated the fact that it still seemed so natural to say it at all. "When I first came here, I'd no idea that it was something bad. But you probably remember that."

Remus nodded, starting to feel slightly more at ease. "So what do you want to know?"

"What's it like when you…?"

"When I change?" He licked his lips. "Before, I'd no notion that anything could hurt that much. But it makes sense, really if you look at it logically. I mean…" he trailed off, seeing the horror in his friend's eyes. "It doesn't matter," he added hastily.

"No. Please. I want to know."

Remus looked at him skeptically, but continued. "Well, mostly all of my bones break and reform, and tendons and stuff stretch with it. Human bones aren't shaped or jointed the same way as the wolf's, you know. And my organs sort of move around a bit to fit the new shape. I'm only really conscious of it at the beginning, and the end when I'm changing back, but," he paused. "Are you _sure_ you want to hear this?"

"Yes," came the whispered reply.

"Then, of course, the fur grows out of my skin, and that's rather painful as well… You know, I always wondered where it went when I wasn't the wolf. I remember, not too long after I was first bitten, I actually cut open the skin on my arm with a kitchen knife, because I wanted to see if the fur was hidden somewhere underneath. Or even the wolf itself. I didn't really understand it all yet. I thought if I cut deep enough, I could maybe see the fur, or better yet, reach in and pull the wolf out, and then I'd be normal again and everything could go back to the way it was before." He looked up when he heard a choked noise, and was surprised to see that Sirius' eyes were overly bright and shiny. He lowered his gaze to his hands and noticed he was fidgeting again.

"My parents thought I was trying to kill myself," he said softly. "I'll never forget the looks on their faces. I tried to explain, but…" He trailed off and the room was uncomfortably silent for a moment. "The people from the ministry and the healers – when I first got bitten – they thought I was asleep. They told my parents that they should have me put down. That it would be the most humane act for such a young child who could never hope to lead a normal life." He looked up again, his eyes narrowed and fists clenched. "I _hate_ what I become. I _hate_ the wolf, and I _hate_ that I'll never be normal!"

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Sometimes," he continued, "I can hear myself screaming when the change starts. I've screamed myself hoarse wishing that I would just die and never have to go through it again, but, Sirius," he swallowed over the lump in his throat. "I'd never kill myself. Not on purpose. And I don't _really_ want to die. Sometimes, it's just… hard."

Sirius swallowed hard, pushed the basket aside and crawled up the bed so that he was sitting directly in front of Remus, their knees touching. He reached out a hand, tentatively, but dropped it back into his lap. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I've only made you upset."

"No, it's okay. It's only… This month was a pretty bad one. Madam Pomfrey insisted I stay the extra day in the infirmary, but I feel much better today. Besides, you should know _me_ by now. If I don't want to talk about something – "

"Wild hippogriffs couldn't drag it out of you. I know." Sirius smiled then. He'd asked enough questions for one day. The rest could wait a bit. "You, Remus Lupin, are the bravest person I've ever met."

"It's not brave when you don't have a choice."

"But you _do _have a choice. You could have just given up. You could have locked yourself away, alone, in your parents' house and become a hermit, but you _chose_ not to." He reached out again, this time grasping Remus' hand in his and squeezing it gently. "You chose to come to Hogwarts, and a damn good thing, too. James and I'd've probably been expelled by now without you to get us out of serious trouble, and poor Peter would be left all alone in this room with no one to help him with his homework, and no one to talk to except Peeves, Nick, and a few spiders."

"But… I – "

"Don't argue with me, you silly prat," Sirius interrupted, releasing his hand and slapping him playfully on the thigh. "What do you always tell me? Something about beating a dead horse? You know I'm right, and even the wise, all-knowing sorting hat agrees with me. Must mean I'm wise and all-knowing, too."

Remus' lip quirked up at the corner, but he refused to give in to the smile. Noticing the quivering mouth, Sirius pressed his advantage. "C'mon. You know I'm right. I'm _always_ right." He leaned forwards, reaching out his hands, fingers flexing in preparation of the impending attack. His fingers found their prey in the form of Remus' flanks and stomach and, mindful of his friend's possible injuries under the shirt, he began tickling him lightly. Remus squealed, trying to back away, but Sirius refused to relent.

"C'mon. Say it. Sirius Black is always right. The dashingly handsome, intelligent, fabulous, wonderful, magnificent, prankster extraordinaire Sirius Black is always right."

"Never!" Remus nearly shrieked. "Oh! Oh! Geroff me, you big oaf!" he spluttered. Sirius had pushed him down on his back, nearly straddling his hips, looming almost menacingly over him, but his protests went unheeded.

"Not until you say it," Sirius chided, fingers flickering deftly across Remus' diaphragm.

"Oh bugger! I can't – Fine! Sirius Black is always right," he huffed between giggles.

"The dashingly handsome – "

"Sirius!"

"Heh. Fine. Be that way. But you know I'm right," Sirius teased, offering a hand to pull Remus up after clambering off his midsection. "And wise and all-knowing. And don't forget dashingly handsome. And don't think I didn't notice that word that came out of your mouth, Monsieur Lupin," he added, almost as an afterthought. "I may have to mark this day down in history."

Clearing his throat, he gave a dramatic half bow to match his elaborately gesturing arm. "Hear ye! Henceforth, today shall be known as the day in which Remus Lupin not only declared for all the world to hear that the magnificent and dashingly handsome Sirius Black is _always_ right, but," he paused, gasping loudly for effect, "in a shocking display of sinfulness unbecoming a future prefect, Remus Lupin uttered his first ever swear word: _Bugger_!"

"I was being tortured!" Remus protested, smiling. "And I never actually said that you were magnificent _or_ handsome."

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever. I know that's what you meant. And I was a witness. For both," he added, grinning. "I'm so proud. Wait till I tell James."

Remus rolled his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. "Err, Sirius, speaking of James. Not that I'm throwing you out, but shouldn't you be in Herbology right now?"

"Skived off. Had something more important to take care of, you know." He dragged the basket of food back in front of Remus. "You really should eat. I went through great pains to get this for you."

This elicited another eye roll from Remus. "Yes, because you had to get on your knees to beg and plead with the house elves, divert their attention and then steal it when they had their backs turned."

Sirius grinned again. "Yep. Hard work, that. Anyhow, James will take notes and all. Or you could always get them from Lily. For some strange reason, she likes you," he teased.

"That's 'cause I don't tease her or play pranks on her," Remus replied airily, digging into the basket, amazed that nothing inside had spilled during their earlier antics. He wondered idly if they could get the house elves to teach them some of these spells, then brushed the thought aside as he extracted a bowl of soup, still hot, and a spoon.

He managed a few spoonfuls while in contemplative thought, and then cleared his throat. "Sirius. You're not afraid of me, are you?" It was more of a statement, an observation, than a question.

"Why would I be?" Sirius chuckled. "You're the same old Remus you were yesterday and the day before that, and even the day before that."

"I suppose," he sighed, eyebrows furrowed, a slight frown crossing his features.

"Why would you ask me that?"

"It's nothing. Forget I asked."

"Nope. Tell me why, Re."

"You'll think it's silly."

"I don't care. C'mon. Tell me. Please?"

"Well, it's just that… You don't seem to mind, err, well, touching me. I mean, you just found out that I'm a dark creature; that I'm someone most normal wizards would be terrified of if they ever found out what I am. I guess I was just expecting you to… Oh, I don't know. Treat me differently, I suppose. I mean, you guys said you didn't care, and I guess I believe you. It's not that I don't _want_ to believe you," he added anxiously. "It's just…"

"It's not silly."

"Huh?"

"You said I'd think it's silly. It's not." He reached out once again and laid a hand on Remus' knee. "You're my best friend. Well, James and Peter, too, but it's the four of us. That won't change. No matter what." He paused for a moment before adding, "I'll always be here for you. And you can always talk to me – about _anything_. I promise."

The slow smile that spread across Remus' face was worth all the trouble he was going to be in for skiving off class when Professor Sprout caught up with him. Sirius grinned widely back, before peering down to see what he could nick from the food basket.

"Where's that chocolate got to?"

Remus slapped his hand away playfully. "That's _my_ chocolate, oh exalted one."

* * *

Later that night, Sirius lay in his bed, curtains drawn, staring into the darkness. He would never admit it to Remus, but he _had_ been frightened. Not of Remus. Never of Remus. Remus was, well, _Remus_. He was kind, smart, and really quite funny. But Remus' sense of humor wasn't obvious, like his own or James'. No, you had to really work at it to get it. He couldn't count the number of times Remus made some off-hand comment, and only later, sometimes a few minutes, sometimes an entire hour or longer, Sirius would play back the scenario in his head and realize that Remus had gotten one over on him but good. He wasn't just smart. He was clever. 

In fact, the more he thought about it, he realized that if it weren't for Remus, they'd have likely received almost twice as many detentions as they'd had in the past year. Well, not counting the one he'd gotten today from Professor Sprout. That one had actually been _because_ of Remus, but, he reflected, a hundred detentions for punishment would have been worth it. He grudgingly admitted to himself that without Remus' assistance, at least half of their pranks would have failed or worse, blown up in their own faces. _Remus_, he thought to himself, _is rather devious for such a studious, book-loving git_, and the thought made him smile. You'd never know it just by looking at him. He looked so… so angelic. So innocent.

He rubbed his eyes and frowned. No. Not innocent at all, yet at the same time innocent in the most innate sense of the word. Although he hadn't asked him _how_ it happened, he was pretty sure that a five-year-old Remus hadn't actually gone up to a werewolf, tapped it on the shoulder and asked it to please bite him. He chuckled a bit at the mental image that thought evoked, and just as quickly, mentally smacked himself for finding humor in the situation.

Yes, he'd been terrified by the stories he'd read about werewolves as a child, to the point where he adamantly refused to venture outside if he noticed the moon was full. But he could never, ever, be frightened of Remus Lupin. His thoughts drifted to Remus' description of his transformations… Now _that_ was frightening. He tried to imagine it: Remus, with his wide amber eyes, thick, light brown hair that always seemed to need a trim, and small, slender frame suddenly sprouting fur and his bones shifting and cracking… No!

He shuddered and hugged himself under his blanket. It wasn't fair! He'd read all sorts of horrible stories about werewolves from the books in his parents' library. _Werewolves are vicious, slavering monsters,_ the books had said. _Werewolves are dangerous. They crave human flesh and even when in humanoid form, cannot fully control their inborn desires to maim and kill, using that time instead to mark and stalk their prey in anticipation of the full moon, at which time, transformed into their true form, they would attack. If left without human prey to feast upon, werewolves will bite, gouge, and rip their own flesh apart, further demonstrating the sheer vileness of these creatures. Werewolves are not human; they are half-breeds and should be locked up and disposed of, unfit for human company and society_. He'd believed it, too. After all, he'd had no reason to doubt. Not until Remus Lupin.

When he'd first begun to suspect two months ago, he'd 'borrowed' James' cloak one night and gone to the library to check up on his facts. He'd even snuck into the Restricted Section, though he'd been rather hesitant to even touch some of the books he found there, and he was not surprised to recognize several from the library at home. The books at school had said much the same as the books at home.

He'd been very confused by this. Remus wasn't anything like the books said he was supposed to be, if in fact he _was_ a werewolf in the first place. No. All the evidence pointed that way. He'd watched Remus very carefully, especially during the days leading up to the next full moon. He'd almost expected Remus to ask for raw meat at dinner, regardless of the fact that he never had before, but no – as usual, he ate the same food as the rest of them. While his skin tone grew paler, and he began to appear tired and listless, he never made any movements that would suggest he was marking or stalking prey. Unless you counted Snivellus, and, well, if _that_ was his only proof, then he and James could be accused of being werewolves themselves. They stalked the slimy Slytherin more than anyone, truth be told.

Remus was always calm. He rarely lost his temper, and even when he did, he didn't raise his voice, or shout and rant like Sirius or even James did. No. His amber-brown eyes would go all narrow and squinty, and his voice would take on a particular tone that Sirius had come to know rather too well, since he was usually the cause of it.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Remus was rather cute when he was angry. And although he would never admit to it, he secretly loved to take the mickey out of Remus just to see the way his eyes flashed, or the way he would raise his right eyebrow in exasperation, or the way the left side of his mouth would twitch ever so slightly as he fought to hide a smile. Remus had the ability to communicate an entire conversation without actually saying a single word, and that alone, fascinated Sirius to no end. He shook himself from his musings, his sleepy grin fading with his next train of thought.

As that full moon had passed, again with no sign of a slavering beast, the other evidence kept adding up and couldn't be ignored; the absences (going home to visit his sick mother each month exactly on the day the full moon fell), his pale and sickly appearance on the days before and after the full moon, and the cuts and scratches on his arms he tried so desperately to hide. Remus never changed or showered in front of them, so Sirius had played innocent and 'accidentally' walked into the loo while Remus was showering a few weeks ago.

Initially, he'd considered using James' cloak again, but the thought of blatantly spying on his naked friend in the shower made him squirm uncomfortably in places he wasn't quite sure he was ready to grasp yet. He'd played it up well, claiming he needed to clean his teeth, and Remus didn't notice him sneaking a look when his back was turned. But he had seen them. He'd actually expected Remus' body to be covered, neck to toes, in harsh, red, jagged scars, and was mildly surprised to see that the ones that were visible during his ever-so-brief and subtle glance were mostly pale, thin, almost white slashes, and not nearly as numerous as he'd anticipated. Closing the door behind him, he'd once again brushed aside the thought that there was something not quite right about voluntarily spying on your very naked, very wet, very male best friend.

Still, he brooded, and tried to apply logic to a most illogical situation.

Werewolves equal X.  
Remus Lupin equals Y.  
If Remus Lupin (Y) is a werewolf (X), then Remus Lupin (Y) equals X.

But Remus Lupin doesn't bloody well equal X. Remus Lupin is about as far from X as you can get, except for the tiny fact that he goes away for full moons and comes back with cuts and bruises, looks sicker around the full moons than even his poor, sick mum is supposed to be, and has scars on his body... Obviously logic is bollocks!

But the truth had eventually come to light. With James' insight, (and a lot of time convincing James that he honestly _wasn't_ trying to pull a prank on him!), they'd looked at the situation objectively, argued, tossed logic out the Gryffindor tower window, argued, and decided, with the rationale of twelve-year-old boys, that the books he'd read were absolute shite, that it was obvious the authors had never even _seen_, much less _met_ a bloody werewolf, and that Remus was Remus, period.

They'd only told Peter two days before, unsure how he would react. But Peter followed where James led, so even if he secretly hung sterling silver garlands around his bedposts at night and cowered in fear beneath his coverings, he'd never let on that he was afraid. But Peter had surprised him. Sure he was nervous, but Peter had lived with Remus for the past year and half, too, and had spent just as much time with him as he himself had. Perhaps more, since Remus had patiently tutored Peter when he had difficulty with his classes – a somewhat frequent occurrence.

So they'd made a plan. Well, several plans, actually. They'd confront him when he returned tomorrow. Dilemma solved. But Remus hadn't returned the next day. They had fretted the whole afternoon and evening, exchanging guarded looks, too distracted for chess or Exploding Snap, unwilling to even attempt any homework, and jumping every time the portrait hole opened. Remus hadn't returned until the following day. The three of them had left lunch early to look for him, and were dejectedly moping around their dormitory when Remus walked in, surprised to find them there.

He thought it had gone rather well. No shouting, no doors slammed in anyone's face, no one fainted, and they didn't even have to chase after him, like they'd worked out in Plan C. All in all, Plan A had been rather simply, if not expertly, executed.

But it wasn't as simple as he'd thought. He'd never thought about the fact that the transformations would be painful. More than painful. _I'd no notion that anything could hurt that much_, Remus' voice echoed in his memory. He remembered when he was eight, he'd presumed that the werewolf simply went to sleep as a human and woke up as a wolf, and vice versa, and he wondered now how he could ever have been so naive. The thought of Remus – kind, clever Remus – in excruciating pain, pain that would force the soft-spoken boy to scream until his voice gave out, cause him to beg for death, even if he said he didn't _really_ mean it… He shivered and clutched the blanket tightly. It was enough to make his stomach clench in knots, and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. It's not _fair_! _Why Remus?_ He raged silently at the injustice.

And in that moment, Sirius Black vowed to whatever pagan god was listening, that if he ever found something – anything – that might alleviate that pain, even for a moment, he'd do it. No matter the risk. No matter the cost. His family had piles of money, anyway.

Remus was worth it.


End file.
